Page 132 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Evelyne’s eyes moved across the room. “Heidara looks happy,” she said, her voice lightening. “And Alaric… They suit one another, do they not?”

“Shouldn’t you be looking at me?”

She smiled. “Hush.”

Kaldrek glanced toward Alaric and Heidara as they moved together with surprising ease. “Yes,” he said. “They do.”

Evelyne did not answer. Something in her posture shifted, and Kaldrek felt it before he saw it: the change in her breathing, the tightening of her hand, the sudden chill through the bond.

He looked back at her at once. “What is it?”

Evelyne exhaled, her mind fixed somewhere beyond him. “There is someone here,” she said quietly. “Someone who should not be.”

Kaldrek turned slowly, following her line of sight past clusters of nobles and drifting laughter until he found the far corner. A man stood half in shadow, his thinning auburn hair catching the light, his face faintly familiar.

Then fear and disgust surged through the bond, and Kaldrek needed no explanation. He had felt that same sharp unease before, on the night they had crossed paths with the man outside the Velenshire library. Something about him had been wrong then. Now, he understood why.

The realization snapped something loose inside him.

The music swelled toward its final notes, carrying the dancers through their last steps, but Kaldrek was no longer with them. The instant the song ended, he released Evelyne’s hand and moved.

“Kaldrek,” she started, reaching for him, her fingers catching the edge of his waistcoat.

He did not stop. She tried to pull him back, but it was useless. He was already crossing the ballroom, moving through the crowd with such purpose that people stepped aside without question.

“Kaldrek, wait,” Evelyne called behind him.

Not a chance.

He knew exactly who that man was.

And he knew what he had done to her.

***

Holden

Oh, he was fucked. Completely, utterly fucked—and somehow that almost made it funny.

Not that she wasn’t the most beautiful female he’d ever seen, because she was. The kind of beauty that stole a man’s breath, that made thought impossible. The kind wars were fought over. And somehow… she was tied to him.

Well. Not yet.

But if she kept looking at him like that, smelling like that…

Yeah. He wasn’t entirely sure how much longer he could keep standing there like a man who was not already falling apart for her.

And tonight?

She looked even better, which he hadn’t thought possible. There she was, standing in that dress—

Red.

Of course it was red.

Did she truly need to wear the one color guaranteed to ruin him? The neckline dipped just enough, and the way her hair fell to one side left her neck bare. Every time his gaze drifted there, his thoughts followed somewhere dangerous.

No.